A Revolution Of The Heart by Dorothy Day

The greatest challenge of the day is: how to bring about a revolution of the heart, a revolution which has to start with each one of us?
Dorothy Day

Prayer of the Woods

Prayer of the Woods
From The Portuguese

I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter nights,
the friendly shade screening you from the summer sun,
and my fruits are refreshing draughts quenching your
thirst as you journey on.

I am the beam that holds your house,the board of your
table, the bed on which you lie,and the timber that
builds your boat.

I am the handle of your hoe,the door of your homestead,the wood of your cradle, and the shell of your coffin.

I am the bread of kindness and the flower of beauty.
'Ye who pass by,
listen to my prayer: Harm me not.

Cultivating The Beautiful by Vernon Howard

By cultivating the beautiful we scatter the seeds of heavenly flowers, as by doing good we cultivate those that belong to humanity.
Vernon Howard

Flowers by M. M. Ballou

Leonid Afremov Art

Sweet letters of the angel tongue,
I've loved ye long and well,
And never have failed in your fragrance sweet
To find some secret spell,
A charm that has bound me with witching power,
For mine is the old belief,
That midst your sweets and midst your bloom,
There's a soul in every leaf!
M. M. Ballou, Flowers.

A Baby Running Barefoot by D.H. Lawrence

A Baby Running Barefoot
D.H. Lawrence

WHEN the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
Is like a little robin’s song, winsome,
Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower
For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.

I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.

Angels In The Breeze

Dolphins

Reflections on Music:Of Music by Khalil Gibran

Music:
Secret Garden-Poéme

Of Music
Khalil Gibran
From"The voice of The master"

I sat by one whom my heart loves,and I listened to her words. My soul began to wander in the infinite spaces where the universe appeared like a dream,and the body like a narrow prison.
The enchanting voice of my Beloved entered my heart.

This is Music,oh friends,for I heard her through the sighs
of the one I loved,and through the words,half uttered between her lips.
With the eyes of my hearing I saw my Beloved’s heart.

My friends: Music is the language of spirits.
Its melody is like the frolicsome breeze that makes the strings quiver with love.
When the gentle fingers of Music knock at the door of our feelings,they awaken memories that have long been hidden in the depths of the Past.

The sad strains of Music bring us mournful recollections;
and her quiet strains bring us joyful memories.
The sound of strings makes us weep at the departure of
a dear one,or makes us smile at the peace God has
bestowed upon us.
The soul of Music is of the Spirit,and her mind is
of the Heart.

When God created Man,he gave him Music as a language
different from all other languages.And early man sang
her glory in the wilderness; and she drew the hearts
of kings and moved them from their thrones.
Our souls are like tender flowers at the mercy of the winds
of Destiny.They tremble in the morning breeze,and bend
their heads under the falling dews of heaven.

The song of the bird awakens Man from his slumber,and
invites him to join in the psalms of glory to Eternal
Wisdom that has created the song of the bird.
Such music makes us ask ourselves the meaning of
the mysteries contained in ancient books.

When the birds sing, do they call to the flowers in
the fields,or are they speaking to the trees,or are
they echoing the murmur of the brooks?
For Man with his understanding cannot know what
the bird is saying,nor what the brook is murmuring,
nor what the waves whisper when they touch the beaches
slowly and gently.

Man with his understanding cannot know what the rain
is saying when it falls upon the leaves of the trees
or when it taps at the window panes.He cannot know
what the breeze is saying to the flowers in the fields.

But the Heart of Man can feel and grasp the meaning of
those sounds that play upon his feelings.Eternal Wisdom
often speaks to him in a mysterious language;Soul and
Nature converse together, while Man stands speechless
and bewildered.
Yet has not Man wept at the sounds? And are not his tears
eloquent understanding?

Divine Music!
Daughter of the Soul of Love

Vase of bitterness and of
Love

Dream of the human heart, fruit
of Sorrow

Flower of joy, fragrance and
bloom of feeling

Tongue of lovers, revealer of
secrets

Mother of the tears of hidden love

Inspirer of poets, composers,
architects

Unity of thoughts within fragments
of words
Designer of love out of beauty
Wine of the exulting heart in
a world of dreams

Heartener of warriors, and strengthener
of souls
Ocean of mercy and sea of tenderness

O Music
In your depths we deposit our hearts
and souls
Thou hast
taught us to see with our
ears
And hear with our hearts.

Enlightenment Quote By Christina Feldman

If we demand enlightenment, it hides. . . . All that we can do is make ourselves enlightenment-prone. We learn to treasure the possibility of awakening in all moments and circumstances. We learn to simplify and cultivate the receptivity of heart that can be touched by profound understanding. We learn to listen deeply and discover stillness amid the movement in our world.
Christina Feldman

On Flowers By Ralph Waldo Emerson

Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers, because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all of the utilities of the world. These gay natures contrast with the somewhat stern countenance of ordinary nature: they are like music heard out of a work-house.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Where dwell hope and truth by ANNE S. BUSHBY/Childhood Quote

And where, on earth, dwell hope and truth?
In childhood's uncorrupted heart;
Alas! too soon to guileless youth
The world doth its dark code impart!
ANNE S. BUSHBY, "The Morn of Life"

Karl Popper On Civilization

Vernazza-Italy

Our civilization has not yet fully recovered from the shock of its birth — the transition from the tribal or 'closed society', with its submission to magical forces, to the 'open society' which sets free the critical powers of man.

The shock of this transition is one of the factors that have made possible the rise of those reactionary movements which have tried, and still try, to overthrow civilization and to return to tribalism.

Karl Popper On Rationalism & Critical Thinking

There are many difficulties impeding the rapid spread of reasonableness. One of the main difficulties is that it always takes two to make a discussion reasonable. Each of the parties must be ready to learn from the other. You cannot have a rational discussion with a man who prefers shooting you to being convinced by you.

A rationalist, as I use the word, is a man who attempts to reach decisions by argument and perhaps, in certain cases, by compromise, rather than by violence. He is a man who would rather be unsuccessful in convincing another man by argument than successful in crushing him by force,by intimidation and threats,or even by persuasive propaganda.

The genuine rationalist does not think that he or anyone else is in possession of the truth; nor does he think that mere criticism as such helps us achieve new ideas. But he does think that, in the sphere of ideas, only critical discussion can help us sort the wheat from the chaff. He is well aware that acceptance or rejection of an idea is never a purely rational matter; but he thinks that only critical discussion can give us the maturity to see an idea from more and more sides and to make a correct judgement of it.

If we are uncritical we shall always find what we want: we shall look for, and find, confirmations, and we shall look away from, and not see, whatever might be dangerous to our pet theories...

Things aren’t always what they seem. (Two Traveling Angels story)

Abbott Handerson Thayer Art

Things aren’t always what they seem
Author Unknown

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of a wealthy family.

The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion’s guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement.

As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angel asked why, the older angel replied, “Things aren’t always what they seem.”

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife.

After sharing what little food they had the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night’s rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had been their sole income, lay dead in the field.

The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel, “How could you have let this happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him.” – she accused. “The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you let the cow die.”

“Things aren’t always what they seem.” – the older angel replied.

“When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn’t find it. Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of death came for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

Sometimes this is exactly what happens when things don't turn out the way they should. If you have faith, you just need to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. You might not know it until some time later. Think about this:

Should you find it hard to get to sleep tonight; Just remember the homeless family who has no bed to lie in.

Should you find yourself stuck in traffic; don't despair. There are people in this world for whom driving is an unheard of privilege.

Should you have a bad day at work; Think of the man who has been out of work for the last three months.

Should you despair over a relationship gone bad; Think of the person who has never known what it's like to love and be loved in return.

Should your car break down, leaving you miles away from assistance; Think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.

Should you notice a new gray hair in the mirror; Think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine.

Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering what is life all about, asking "what is my purpose"; Be thankful. There are those who didn't live long enough to get the opportunity.

Should you find yourself the victim of other people's bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities; Remember, things could be worse. You could be them!

Meditation In The Arms Of Nature:Birds of Passage by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow*The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry*The Summer Day by Mary Oliver*What I Have Learned So Far by Mary Oliver

Music:
MIKAEL TARIVERDIEV - Memories

Birds of Passage
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
Against the southern sky;

And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms
The fields that round us lie.

But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,
And distant sounds seem near,

And above,in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
Through the dewy atmosphere.

I hear the beat
Of their pinions fleet,
As from the land of snow and sleet
They seek a southern lea.

I hear the cry
Of their voices high
Falling dreamily through the sky,
But their forms I cannot see.

Oh, say not so!
Those sounds that flow
In murmurs of delight and woe
Come not from wings of birds.

They are the throngs
Of the poet's songs,
Murmurs of pleasures,and pains, and wrongs,
The sound of winged words.

This is the cry
Of souls,that high
On toiling,beating pinions,fly,
Seeking a warmer clime,

From their distant flight
Through realms of light
It falls into our world of night,
With the murmuring sound of rhyme.

Atkinson Grimshaw Art

The Peace of Wild Things
Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water,and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief.I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.For the time
I rest in the grace of the world,and am free.

The Summer Day
Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper,I mean-
the one who who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead
of up and down -
who is gazing around with her enormous and
complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly
washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last,and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

What I Have Learned So Far
Mary Oliver

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit,every morning of my life,on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? Because,properly
attended to,delight,as well as havoc,is suggestion.
Can one be passionate about the just,the
ideal,the sublime,and the holy,and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? I don't think so.

All summations have a beginning,all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance.The gospel of
light is the crossroads - of indolence, or action.
Be ignited, or be gone.

On Woman by Khalil Gibran

Pino Daeni Art

Men who do not forgive women their little faults
will never enjoy their great virtues.
Khalil Gibran

She's somewhere in the sunlight strong by Richard Le Gallienne

Pino Daeni Art

She's somewhere in the sunlight strong,
Her tears are in the falling rain,
She calls me in the wind's soft song,
And with the flowers she comes again.
Yon bird is but her messenger,
The moon is but her silver car;
Yea! sun and moon are sent by her,
And every wistful waiting star.
Richard Le Gallienne

Over het Huwelijk Van Khalil gibran

Over het Huwelijk
Kahlil Gibran
(uit: De profeet)

Toen sprak Almitra opnieuw en zei:
En wat kun je ons zeggen over het huwelijk?

En hij antwoordde:
Tezamen werd je geboren,en tezamen zul je voor immer zijn.
Jij zult tezamen zijn,als de witte vleugelen van de dood je dagen verstrooien.
Ja, je zult zelfs tezamen zijn in Gods stille herinnering.
Maar laten er tussenruimten zijn in je tezamenzijn.
Laat de winden des hemels tussen je dansen.

Hebt elkander lief, maar maakt van de liefde geen band:
laat zij veeleer zijn een golvende zee
tussen de kusten van je zielen.
Vult elkanders bekers,maar drinkt niet uit dezelfde beker.
Geeft elkander van je brood,maar eet niet
van hetzelfde stuk.
Zingt en danst tezamen en weest blijde,
maar bent ieder alleen,
zoals de snaren van een luit op zichzelf zijn,
al doortrilt hen dezelfde muziek.

Geef je harten,maar geef ze niet aan elkander in bewaring.
Want alleen de hand des levens kan je harten bevatten.
En staat tezamen, maar niet te dicht bijeen:
want de zuilen van de tempel staan ieder op zichzelf,
en de eik en de cypres groeien niet in elkanders schaduw.

Ich liebe! Von Rainer Maria Rilke(Liebesgedicht zum Valentinstag)

Richard Johnson Art

Ich liebe!
Rainer Maria Rilke

Nun mag die Welt in ihren Festen beben,

entfesselt wüten mag das Element; -

denn eine neue Ära tritt ins Leben,

die keinen Haß und keinen Streit mehr kennt!

Durch meine Seele ziehts mit Zauberweben

o! wie’s im Herzen glückverheißend brennt!

Die Pulse fliegen mir, die Lippen beben,

ich fühls, das ist es, was sich Liebe nennt!

Und möge alles rings in nichts versinken,

ich lebe und der Liebe Sterne winken!

O! Könnt ich, was ich fühle, könnt ichs sagen!-
Doch keine Sprach' ist mir dazu verliehn,
auf zu den Sternen scheint es mich zu tragen,
die dort in dunkler Ferne leuchtend ziehn,
ja, immer höher führt ein Feuerwagen
mich in das Reich der schönsten Phantasien,
und dieses Herze fühl ich höher schlagen,
und diese Wangen fühl ich wärmer glühn!
Des Kummers Wolken seh ich leicht entschweben
und neue Glut entfacht mir neues Leben!

Da steh ich und muß denken und muß sinnen,
so wie ein Träumender verloren sinnt.
Mein ganzes Herze konntest du gewinnen,
in einem Augenblick, geliebtes Kind,
und um mein Sein die leichten Fäden spinnen,
die zart und weich, doch unzerreißbar sind.
In meinem Busen glüht ein wonnig Minnen,
und längst erwachten schon so sanft und lind
des Herzens süße-zart gehegte Triebe
im goldnen Morgenstrahl der jungen Liebe.

Puisque j'ai mis ma lèvre à ta coupe encor pleine de Victor Hugo(poème d'amour)

Puisque j'ai mis ma lèvre à ta coupe encor pleine
Victor Hugo
Le recueil:Le Chant du Crépuscule

Puisque j'ai mis ma lèvre à ta coupe encor pleine;
Puisque j'ai dans tes mains posé mon front pâli;
Puisque j'ai respiré parfois la douce haleine
De ton âme, parfum dans l'ombre enseveli;

Puisqu'il me fut donné de t'entendre me dire
Les mots où se répand le coeur mystérieux;
Puisque j'ai vu pleurer, puisque j'ai vu sourire
Ta bouche sur ma bouche et tes yeux sur mes yeux;

Puisque j'ai vu briller sur ma tête ravie
Un rayon de ton astre, hélas ! voilé toujours;
Puisque j'ai vu tomber dans l'onde de ma vie
Une feuille de rose arrachée à tes jours;

Je puis maintenant dire aux rapides années:
- Passez ! passez toujours ! je n'ai plus à vieillir!
Allez-vous-en avec vos fleurs toutes fanées;
J'ai dans l'âme une fleur que nul ne peut cueillir!

Votre aile en le heurtant ne fera rien répandre
Du vase où je m'abreuve et que j'ai bien rempli.
Mon âme a plus de feu que vous n'avez de cendre!
Mon coeur a plus d'amour que vous n'avez d'oubli!

Y PORQUE Amor combate de Pablo Neruda

Daniel Gerhartz Art

Y PORQUE Amor combate
Pablo Neruda

Y PORQUE Amor combate
no sólo en su quemante agricultura,
sino en la boca de hombres y mujeres,
terminaré saliéndole al camino
a los que entre mi pecho y tu fragancia
quieran interponer su planta oscura.
De mí nada más malo
te dirán,amor mio,
de lo que yo te dije.
Yo viví en las praderas
antes de conocerte
y no esperé el amor sino que estuve
acechando y salté sobre la rosa.

Qué más pueden decirte?
No soy bueno ni malo sino un hombre,
y agregarán entonces el peligro
de mi vida, que conoces
y que con tu pasión has compartido.
Y bien, este peligro
es peligro de amor, de amor completo
hacia toda la vida,
hacia todas las vidas,
y si este amor nos trae
la muerte o las prisiones,
yo estoy seguro que tus grandes ojos,
como cuando los beso
se cerrarán entonces con orgullo,
en doble orgullo, amor,
con tu orgullo y el mío.

Pero hacia mis orejas vendrán antes
a socavar la torre
del amor dulce y duro que nos liga,
y me dirán: -"Aquella
que tú amas,
no es mujer para ti,
por qué la quieres? Creo
que podrías hallar una más bella,
más seria, más profunda,
más otra, tú me entiendes, mírala qué ligera,
y qué cabeza tiene,
y mírala cómo se viste
y etcétera y etcétera."

Y yo en estas líneas digo:
así te quiero, amor,
amor, así te amo,
así corno te vistes
y como se levanta
tu cabellera y como
tu boca se sonríe,
ligera como el agua
del manantial sobre las piedras puras,
así te quiero, amada.
Al pan yo no le pido que me enseñe
sino que no me falte
durante cada día de la vida.

Yo no sé nada de la luz,de dónde
viene ni dónde va,
yo sólo quiero que la luz alumbre,
yo no pido a la noche
explicaciones,
yo la espero y me envuelve,
y así tú, pan y luz
y sombra eres.
Has venido a mi vida con lo que tú traías,
hecha
de luz y pan y sombra te esperaba,
y así te necesito,
así te amo,
y a cuantos quieran escuchar mañana
lo que no les diré, que aquí lo lean,
y retrocedan hoy porque es temprano
para estos argumentos.

Mañana sólo les daremos
una hoja del árbol de nuestro amor, una hoja
que caerá sobre la tierra
como si la hubieran hecho nuestros labios,
como un beso que cae
desde nuestras alturas invencibles
para mostrar el fuego y la ternura
de un amor verdadero.